


A Meaningful Gift

by Arithanas



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 03:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8951554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: Two woman living in close distance are bound to give each other thing that are more valuable than its monetary value.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bbcphile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbcphile/gifts).



Summer could be so boring without a new crime to solve.

Phryne Fisher sighed and looked at the ceiling of her bedroom. Mindlessly, she slid her nude feet over the cold spot of her sheets, but they warmed up quickly. Phryne was supposed to take a nap before she had to attend another night soirée, but her heart was not in it. There was no chance of being an enjoyable party if Aunt Prudence was the hostess. She would probably have an excellent  time, once she had time to sip her first drink and move to her first dance, but for the moment she wished to have the presence of mind to face the event with good cheer.

While she tried her best to get some rest, she noticed the sound of the faint footsteps on the ceiling of her room. Dot’s bedroom. She never though much of her maid and friend’s living space. Phryne cared for it, of course. The attic room was well insulated and full of fresh air in summer. All the living furniture was new, solid and charming. Dot said she loved her blanket, patterned with autumn leaves, spread out in her own little bed. For the first time in years, Phryne Fisher wondered how life was for Dot in her little room.

Wealth had its problems; the main of them was that it change the little thresholds of perception. God and morals meant nothing to her; she had no use for those pretence, the same way a run down her silk stockings meant nothing to her. Dot, no matter how handsomely Phryne paid her for her service and her loyalty, would face the same event with an air of tragedy.

Phryne picked up a pillow and placed it over her face. She had spent too much time with Bert and Cec, obviously.

*****

Dot had a date this night, probably with Hugh. Phryne laughed at her own supposition. For Dot there was no other man in the world.

The little signs were there. Dot’s waves were resettled; her semi-laced step-in corset was betrayed by the way her shoulders were a little too squared, a good inch of lace peeking out over her modest neckline. There was no way she got this dressed up for church, yet Miss Fisher made no comment. What was there to win from embarrassing Dot and ruffling her Catholic sensibilities?

Dot helped her get into that hostess dress that mailman had delivered a week ago. The turquoise silk chiffon felt like a kiss on Phryne’s hot skin. As the fabric passed over her face, Phryne noticed the faint sandalwood smell of her favorite perfume. Dot had fixed her dress and stored it in a box, but not before spraying her favorite aromas in it.

“Do you think I need a fresh spray of perfume?” Phryne asked as her maid fixed a tiara over her hair, taking care to place each string of pearls in a perfectly fashioned mess.

“Three layers of fragrance is best, miss,” Dot replied and surveyed her hard work. Phryne watched her friend’s face in the mirror. Dot's smile showed how proud she was of making others beautiful.

Feigning annoyance, Phryne Fisher, detective extraordinaire, got up from her seat, letting the magnificent turquoise dress fall as Dot picked the perfume bottle and sprayed her with droplets of expensive alcohol.

*****

The box was delivered to her home early in the morning, and Phryne would have liked to burn it after she saw the contents.

The set of silk stockings were a cheap and tacky gift to give to your husband’s lover, but the accompanying letter was frankly vulgar, implying the contents of the box were a payment for the entertainment. The letter detailed that, in her quality of wife, her donor had ruined many sets while serving her husband’s randy mischiefs. In bold letters it implied that this scorned wife understood that the Honorable Phryne Fisher had to to pay for the privilege. Phryne felt those ratty stockings as an unbearable insult.

Dot was there when she tossed the box and its hideous contents to the floor, but she made no disapproving sound. Dot's arms crept around Phryne's shoulders, and she began to gently rock Phryne. Her presence was comforting and accepting. For the first time in years, Phryne allowed herself to cry her eyes out and to be vulnerable to the venom of another woman.

All that time, Dot was mumbling something that sound like a lullaby.

*****

Dot smiled faintly in the nook of the window, her engagement ring gleamed under the sun. It was beyond Phryne’s ken how anyone could be so happy at the idea of getting married.

Miss Fisher was opposed to everything that marriage stood for, but the lack of freedom roused a fiercer resistance. It was not for her to dictate the way Dot might live her life, since she was her friend and Dot refrained from passing any judgment on the way Phryne lived her life or how Mac lived hers.

Dot had always been there for them. For that reason, Phryne took a long time to think about the perfect gift for her hardworking friend, and when she found it, she worried herself sick thinking her meaning wouldn’t come across, or, even worse, that Dot would begrudge her gesture.

“I want to give you these new stockings, Dot,” Phryne said, presenting her the box with the same bow.

Giving the present of a discarded lover to a friend might seem tacky to anyone, but Phryne had powerful reasons to do so.

“But, miss…” Dot babbled as she noticed the package. “Those are for you.”

“Please open the box.”

Dot’s fingers were trembling, but she complied. Her eyes almost closed, but as soon as the lid was removed those same eyes lit up with delight. Inside the box where a pair of silk stockings had sat was a floral house robe, made of sensible linen.lifted it against the light, letting out a cloud of lavender aroma. Dot expertly surveyed each stitch, letting out small sounds of delight. Dot’s joyous exclamations attracted Mr Butler who, being the quintessential master of domestic service, asked if the mistress wanted for something.

Phryne shook her head. There was nothing more to wish at the moment.

“There was no use getting rid of a good box,” Phryne explained and sit to watch the way Dot enjoyed her gift.

“How…?” Dot couldn’t manage to utter another word.

“I just thought of garment you would use all the time when you live with Hugh.” Phryne reclined indolently and extended her hand to the bonbon box. She nibbled a sweet confection before adding, “May it provide you warmth for many years.”

Dot smiled the biggest smile Phryne had ever seen.


End file.
